


while i wasn't looking at you, you were looking at me

by arashiyama (harukatenoh)



Series: Arashiyama Jun Birthday Countdown 2018 [5]
Category: World Trigger
Genre: Developing Relationship, Introspection, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 04:45:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15453627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harukatenoh/pseuds/arashiyama
Summary: Ouji as he navigates the endless maze that is Arashiyama Jun.





	while i wasn't looking at you, you were looking at me

**Author's Note:**

> lets pretend this isn't 30 minutes late okokokok. this is literally the rarest of pairs but like? i do what i fucking want? arashiyama bday countdown day five: ara/ouji fun times bc i love them both soooooooooooo much
> 
> work title is from i found love by oh my girl

“Ah, Aracchi, is that you?”

By Kazuaki’s usual standards, the nickname is rather tame and uninspired. He has coined many nicknames within Border and they range from weirdly fitting to just plain weird. Arashiyama’s is the only one that deviates from the norm.  _ Aracchi _ . It is too familiar, too personal for Kazuaki’s liking and yet he continues to use it, to the absolute indifference of the person in question. Most people would balk at the closeness that the nickname implied, especially coming from Kazuaki, but today, just like always, Arashiyama accepts it with a nod.

“Hey Ouji,” he replies, waving. He’s smiling. He’s always smiling. Kazuaki can’t really say anything, because he is as well, but Arashiyama’s cheer always feels like far cry from his own.

“Have you come to congratulate me on my stunning loss?” Kazuaki asks, more to the effect of bemoaning himself than anything. He knows Arashiyama too well to ever expect him to do anything of the sort.

_ Golden boy Jun _ . Shining, precious, bright. Born with a lustre that Kazuaki can never hope to replicate, or even reach.

“I’ve come to congratulate you, yes, but it isn’t on the loss,” Arashiyama responds cheerfully as Kazuaki stands up to greet him. “You did as well as you ever do, Ouji. Tamakoma second is an interesting team to play,”

Kazuaki tricks himself into thinking that Arashiyama’s tone sounds fond, and for somebody who is so lauded for logic and strategy, he is fooled so easily by his own heart.

With another affected sigh, Kazuaki takes the hand that Arashiyama offers him. “Whatever that bastard elite is feeding them, tell him to send me a crate load,” 

Arashiyama laughs—the desired reaction, and it fills Kazuaki up with a sense of elation. At least here he can gain a win, he thinks. In this distance between him and Arashiyama, his true victory lies.

They continue the rest of the conversation amicably, comfortably, familiarly. Kazuaki gets more laughs out of Arashiyama, coaxing a more real smile out of him. Not to say that his usual smile isn’t real, because it is, but there are gently placed guards between Arashiyama and the rest of the world that Kazuaki likes to break past.

Small victories. Small mercies.

If Kazuaki lets himself think too hard about it, he starts feeling more like a beggar receiving scraps, but Arashiyama will smile at him again and he feels like a king. Like he can get all that he wants. Like he is getting all that he wants.

The conversation ends too soon, Arashiyama is preparing to leave and Kazuaki prepares himself for the loss. He congratulates Kazuki again on the match and Kazuaki doesn’t need to wonder if the sentiment is genuine— knows it is, and watches Arashiyama go.

When he leaves, the room seems duller around Kazuaki. He rolls his shoulders, prepares to go talk to his team again before they can take the results of their battle too harshly. He cannot mourn the loss, of both Arashiyama’s presence and the rank battle, not yet. Such weakness is reserved for when he’s alone.

* * *

The problem with knowing that Arashiyama’s usual smile is genuine is that he uses it  _ everywhere. _ He uses it walking down the hallways of Border, uses it at university, uses it when he’s in front of a camera in front of the entire city. That smile is like second nature to Arashiyama and he means it each and every time.

It makes it hard, observing him, with the knowledge that he can give out this smile of his so freely. The mere thought that he has so much to give. It impresses Kazuaki as much as it frustrates him because there has to be a breaking point, hasn’t there? He doesn’t exactly want Arashiyama to break, but it would be nice, just to know that he can. It would be nice, to know that he isn’t the unbreakable, untouchable star that he can seem like.

He’s only a year older than Kazuaki, and as much as Kazuaki acts put together and prepared, it’s nothing compared to Arashiyama. Even throughout high school, watching Arashiyama slowly take the world by storm had been exhilarating and Kazuaki can still remember being a starstruck first year, meeting the great Arashiyama Jun in the hallways one day.

His…  _ crush, _ and he supposes that he should just call it for what it is, was different back then. Kazuaki was a difficult, precocious teenager and he was enamoured with Arashiyama, viewing him as the person to beat and the prize to gain. Kazuaki placed himself in his radius, coming into his affections and sticking in his memory, desperate for acknowledgement, and that in turn became his downfall. He came to  _ know _ Arashiyama, crossing the line between having an idolized crush and gaining darker, murkier feelings that he didn’t want to have.

That he still doesn’t want to have. Somewhere along the line, Kazuaki fell in love. He knows Arashiyama so well now: they’re friends, good friends, and every piece of Arashiyama’s puzzle that Kazuaki fits into place makes him fall harder. He is older now but seeing Arashiyama still makes him feel—young, unsteady. Kazuaki has always liked to have control and Arashiyama so easily unbalances him, without even trying. And maybe, just maybe, it might be nice if Arashiyama is the one unbalanced one day.

Kazuaki ends up working harder every time he gets a moment alone with Arashiyama, working at bringing out his more real smile, the one reserved only for a certain few people. It’s not a sign that Arashiyama is human but it  _ is _ a sign that Kazuaki is special and he thinks he can live with that too. The difference is subtle enough that many wouldn’t be able to tell, but Kazuaki has years of experience watching people, and years of experience watching Arashiyama.

He can tell. He can tell the way Arashiyama’s smile relaxes, how it’s gentler and softer, a little more reckless and free. Kazuaki can tell by the way Arashiyama’s face changes when he uses that smile that he isn’t used to it, taken off guard a little each time. Kazuaki sometimes longs for Ara to use it more often in general, but the larger and greedier part of him is glad that he can have it all to himself.

So, like a magician working their tricks or a painter placing their brush, Kazuaki brings out that smile in Arashiyama, carefully and intently.

And each time it happens it is a victory, an achievement. Kazuaki wins against the masses of people that Arashiyama smiles at every day, wins against Arashiyama who never expects that smile on his face, wins against himself by proving that he can. 

He doesn’t know what he likes more: the feeling of winning, or the rewards he reaps. Perhaps a point of concern, a part of him says, like this part of him says his entire relationship with Arashiyama is.

He leaves the concern for another day.

* * *

 

The breaking point comes, against all odds, and although Kazuaki may have wanted it, it’s still jarring to see. He shouldn’t have even seen it—it’s a pure accident that he stumbles upon Arashiyama in that empty room of Border while trying to find where his teammate misplaced his phone.

He pushes open the door, a man on a mission, and pauses when he catches sight of a figure. He’s already backing up and preparing to politely ask when the person turns around and—oh.

He’s faced with Arashiyama.

“Aracchi…” he says, more out of habit than any conscious thought. He’s too taken off balance by the look on Arashiyama’s face; though he’s longed for something to break through the ever-present smile, seeing the darkness settled on Arashiyama’s features just seems so  _ wrong. _

Arashiyama has a face that deserves to be nothing but bright, and Kazuaki doesn’t want his light to be dimmed.

Arashiyama reassembles his mask and it’s a little fascinating, watching how he pieces his smile and his demeanour and his shine back together. It’s also a little horrifying, in how easily it comes, how convincing it is.

“Ah, hello Ouji,” he says kindly as if Kazuaki is the one who needs the kindness right now.

Kazuaki hesitates, because he could just play along and let their normal interaction play out. He could also push a little. See where this new, untaken road that Arashiyama has presented leads.

Kazuaki decides to ask “Are you okay?” because he does want to know, and he thinks he wants things to change.

The hesitation in Arashiyama’s expression is visible if fleeting, and Kazuaki’s sharp eyes can pick out the way turmoil flickers in his gaze before he nods.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Arashiyama says with a reassuring smile. His hands fidget and he doesn’t quite meet Kazuaki’s eyes, as if he knows Kazuaki can maybe see through him.

Kazuaki isn’t reassured. He says “Are you sure? You seemed… upset, earlier,”, putting a little more pressure into his words.

This time he is watching and waiting intently for the flash in Arashiyama’s eyes and it comes defiant, tired, reserved, all at once. He closes his eyes after that and shakes his head, and the smile on his face has gone a little sour. Kazuaki feels winded.

Arashiyama, with a tone that speaks of an agonizing amount of care and placement, says “Don’t worry about it, Ouji. I—maybe I was, but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”

His voice is a little harder than normal, a little more vicious. Kazuaki hears the warning underneath it and wonders how Arashiyama can make  _ back off _ sound so resonating, so allowing. At that moment, Kazuaki can sense something, finally something, underneath all of the shine and glitter.

Kazuaki knows himself. He is driven by an ugly, encompassing need to win and stay in control. He hides it with a composed outer image, tries not to let it leak out, and the sight of the same drive in Arashiyama is so very gratifying. It’s so very human.

In the end, Kazuaki doesn’t stay for much longer. He takes his leave and leaves Arashiyama to fix it himself, because he does trust that Arashiyama can.

Even though his attempts at connecting had been rebuffed, Kazuaki’s steps are light for the rest of the day. He got a glimpse, a sign, of the side of Arashiyama that isn’t cultivated perfectly for the outside world. 

It’s enough to know that Arashiyama can break.

It’s enough to make him fall in love.

Arashiyama, as always, is enough for him.

* * *

 

“Ouji? Are you doing anything right now?” Arashiyama says over the phone as Kazuaki cycles away from Border. It’s a bright day and he’s in a good mood, and it’s only bolstered by Arashiyama’s sudden call. They haven’t talked much since the incident in the empty Border office a while ago, and Kazuaki has missed him something terrible.

Stopping his bike by the side of the road, he replies “Just going out for lunch,” 

“Ah,” Arashiyama says cheerfully, “want to get some with me? This new place just opened nearby, and I want to try,” 

Something lurches inside of Kazuaki and he’s glad he has his bike to lean on, from how his body seems to go weak. It takes him a while to respond, too busy trying to sort out his internal organs. 

“Oh, sure,” he finally replies, constructed to sound as casual as he could. Arashiyama relays the instructions over the phone and Kazuaki tries to imagine what his smile would look like as he does it. 

It’s not hard. Kazuaki knows Arashiyama’s smiles very well.

A few turns and some vigorous biking later, Kazuaki arrives at the new café. He’s greeted with the sight of Arashiyama waiting patiently outside the store and his heart feels like it’s lagging still several metres behind him and his bike. 

He’s still out of breath and it escapes him a little more after seeing Arashiyama in casual clothes, changing him from the five-star Border officer to just a teenager, just a friend. Just somebody, here to eat lunch with Kazuaki for some inexplicable reason.

Every alarm goes off in Kazuaki’s head, but he steps forward and greets Arashiyama regardless.

* * *

 

“I would like to apologize for the other day,” Arashiyama says, and Kazuaki is gratified in having a reason for their sudden meetup. He brushes it off and Arashiyama brushes off his brushing off, and they settle easily into the usual rhythm of their conversations.

They sit together in a booth and talk about everything as they eat, hands occasionally brushing when they reach for their drinks, eyes meeting more than not. It’s familiar. Comfortable. Close.

Kazuaki regrets the nickname Aracchi a little more. It speaks of attachment, of endearment, and he can no longer deny that he has both in spades. 

He doesn’t fully regret it, however, until Arashiyama is talking to him about attacker strategies and, as casually as ever, calls him “Aki,”.

Kazuaki Ouji.  _ Aki _ . The something is lurching again, churning and thrashing inside Kazuaki’s chest as he realizes that he’s not winning anymore, that he’s no longer in the lead, no longer in control. He realizes that if he wants to back out of this competition, he has to do it now. 

The movements come to a stop, perfectly stills, as he realizes he doesn’t want to.

Arashiyama has stopped talking, eyes on Kazuaki with a smile half-formed on his face. He looks happy. Kazuaki doesn’t know what to make of that.

He swallows and tries to sort his head out, ignoring the way Arashiyama smiles at him, a completely new and different smile. One that Kazuaki has never seen before, one that Arashiyama is clearly aware of. It sits on his face perfectly and Kazuaki thinks he wants to see it for the rest of forever.

Arashiyama says, “Ouji, can I kiss you?” 

Kazuaki breathes out. He thinks  _ I’m gone, I’ve lost. _ He concedes his defeat. 

He nods. 

Arashiyama smiles again, something that’s also new and bright and dazzling, and leans over the table. 

A hand at the back of Kazuaki’s neck. A hand on his shoulder. 

He’s being pulled forward gently, and when their lips meet it feels like more of a victory than anything in Kazuaki’s life. Arashiyama is gentle and allowing, the control is there for Kazuaki to take but he finds he doesn’t want it. 

He doesn’t want the control, the reign, everything that he would normally crave. He’s willing and happy to stand eye to eye with Arashiyama and figure it all out together. 

He lets Arashiyama press into the kiss more, waiting and savouring and god, he tastes like victory, tastes like slightly expensive café food, tastes like everything Kazuaki has wanted.

Arashiyama pulls away and he’s still got that smile on his face, the one that sends Kazuaki’s heart up into the clouds. He’s too busy thinking, committing to memory what just happened, making it into the many details that he will never ever forget, and in that time Arashiyama’s smile only widens.

“Aki,” Arashiyama says gently. Kazuaki, with stunning clarity, focuses back on the boy in front of him. “I’ve never seen you smile like that,” Arashiyama says, pleased, grateful.

Kazuaki realizes that he’s never felt himself smile like this either.

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked this fic, please consider donating to my ko-fi! it's linked in [my carrd](http://arashiyama.carrd.co) \- thank you so much if you do!


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